


Got A War In My Mind

by EllaStorm



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Dunkirk, coming to terms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 20:35:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11699424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllaStorm/pseuds/EllaStorm
Summary: Getting back on English soil isn't what makes Tommy feel alive again. Alex is.





	Got A War In My Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Title stolen from Lana del Rey's "Ride".  
> Feels taken from the bottom of my heart. I love those boys to death.

They walked in silence through the darkness, the smell of smoke and oil and hot metal surrounding them, eyes front, set to the backs of their comrades leading the way to the reception camp, the trampling of heavy boots and terse scraps of conversation in their wake.

Somewhere along the way Tommy shot Alex a short, sidelong glance. It was hard to make out his features, but the vague impression of his unwavering, somewhat brooding forward stare sufficed to convince him that Alex didn’t exactly care for a conversation right now. Not that Tommy was keen on having a conversation, himself. A deep, heavy tiredness had settled in his every bone, but he wasn’t sure whether he would be able to get any rest tonight. Back on the train his body had granted him a few blissfully dreamless hours of sleep, but now there was an awareness at the back of his mind, a certain dread, that he wouldn’t be able to hope for the same kind of luck again. That, once sleep took over, the beach and the water and the rattling of machine guns would come back with it.

He looked at Alex again, instinctually, not entirely sure why he did it, and this time he caught his companion looking back at him for a split second, before he turned away and resumed his stoic demeanour. Tommy had waited for the moment Alex would take off with one of the lads from his regiment and leave him to continue on his own, had waited for it ever since they’d left the boat, ever since they’d boarded the train.

No such thing had happened. Alex was still walking next to him; and some part of Tommy was really grateful for him being there. He was not a mate, not really; Tommy wasn’t even sure he liked him. But he was a solid, living, breathing reminder of survival. And that was better than a mate.

The soldiers in front of them scattered, and Tommy saw why: Their encampment had come into view, and the stream of men split up into queues at the entrances of the long-stretching wooden barracks. Everybody seemed eager to get into a somewhat comfortable bed to rest for the night as quick as possible, before the next morning came, and with it new orders, new shipments, new battles, new death.

Tommy wasn’t sure when and where they were meant to re-join the war. But re-join they would, and very soon, no question. France, maybe. Africa, maybe. The Pacific, maybe. Would he be able to pay his folks a visit before that? He decided not to think about it too much. Somebody would tell him. Somebody always told him.

There was a light touch at his shoulder. Alex’s hand. “Not sure I wanna go in there.” His voice sounded nonchalant, but Tommy saw the urgency in his eyes. He nodded, almost imperceptibly. Relief settled on Alex’s scarcely-lit face.

Without further conversation they started walking, making their way to the barrack furthest to the right, then around it, gravel, then grass beneath their feet. They walked until the noises of the camp faded behind them into memory. Tommy could see shadows of trees not far from them, and the warmth of the night air reminded him that it was summer. He had forgotten about that.

Alex stopped right beneath one of the trees and sat down, and Tommy followed him suit. They couldn’t see the barracks from here, not through the night, and it could have been easy to forget about the war, hadn’t it been for the taste of oil and salt and burned flesh still stuck at the back of Tommy’s throat.

“We made it,” Alex said, but there was no happiness to his words, just exhaustion.

“We did.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stop you from getting a decent night’s sleep in a decent bed. It’s just…”

“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t have slept in there, anyway.”

Alex sighed. “You got the pictures, too, huh?”

“Not as bad as some of the others. I’m not complaining.”

“You’re never complaining.”

Tommy didn’t know what to say to that.

“I’m not sorry for what I did,” Alex finally spoke into the silence, quietly. It sounded honest. “I survived. I’m not sorry.”

Tommy turned his head towards him, and through the darkness he was barely able to distinguish the shadow of Alex facing him from all the other shadows. He could imagine the sharp look Alex’s eyes must have taken on, though, and something inside him clenched.

“I’m not sorry, either,” he retorted.

Saying it, he realised that it was true.

“Good,” Alex gave back. His hand came to rest on Tommy’s shoulder, suddenly, strong fingers pressing through his uniform. “That’s good, Tommy.”

The hand disappeared, and Tommy immediately wanted it back. Alex’s touch reminded him of being alive more than anything else had since he’d left that forsaken beach. He wondered if Alex felt the same, if that was the reason he hadn’t left. After all, he had survived with Tommy just as much as Tommy had survived with him. That was something Tommy hadn’t considered very much, until now.

A moment of indecisiveness later, he stretched his hand out and found Alex’s upper arm through rough fabric. His heart stopped for a moment, as he waited for Alex to pull away or push his hand off. He didn’t. Instead he shifted, moving in a little, and Tommy’s pulse decided to make up for lost time and accelerate.

He could feel a puff of breath against his cheek, and in his mind he saw Alex’s mouth, open, red and too close. Tommy’s hand moved higher, without his doing, and surpassed the shoulder, then the collar of Alex’s coat to settle at his jaw. In any other circumstances, this would have seemed very wrong to him. He’d heard stories about soldiers who’d done things with other soldiers in the field, and he’d always responded to that sort of thing with an appropriate amount of disdain, but now, the shocking warmth of Alex’s skin beneath his fingertips, the reality of Alex’s hot breath on his face, he finally started to get it.

Their lips collided in a rather awkward way, due to their inability to really see anything, but as soon as they were kissing, Tommy couldn’t stop any more. He tasted the same sand, oil, salt water and blood in Alex’s mouth that seemed to have made itself at home in his own; and just like they would both never really get rid of that taste, he knew, right then, with startling clarity, they’d never really get rid of each other all the same.

There was a bit of fumbling, and cursing, and not finding each other in the dark, before Alex’s calloused hand closed itself around Tommy's length, and Tommy felt like dying, a different sort of dying than he was used to, a better one, closer to living, and he didn’t last very long at all, his lips still attached to Alex’s mouth, one hand buried in greasy hair, the other desperately grasping for Alex’s waistband to return the favour. After Alex had finished him, pushed him into pure, stupid bliss for a few seconds, he finally managed to do just that, catching Alex’s groans with his throat, blood pumping through his veins like the rhythm of a victory march – _alive, alive, alive –_ as Alex spent himself in Tommy’s hand only a minute later.

They wiped their fingers and pulled their trousers up and didn’t lose a word, letting their breathing slowly go back to normal as they leaned against the bark of the tree behind them. Alex’s hand snuck up to Tommy’s thigh, though, and Tommy let his fingers rest on top of it, and suddenly he wasn’t so weary of falling asleep any more.

“I’m not sorry,” he muttered under his breath, and saying it, he realised that it was true.

Alex didn’t answer, but his hand squeezed Tommy’s thigh ever so slightly, and Tommy curled his fingers around it, holding on.

Alex didn’t pull away.


End file.
